


It's Not Unusual 4: The Return of the Anti-Mulder

by Mallory Klohn (malloryklohn)



Series: It's Not Unusual [4]
Category: X Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-03
Updated: 2009-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malloryklohn/pseuds/Mallory%20Klohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skinner receives another sex-related gift from the Photo Department, Mulder receives a crate of celebrity workout videos, and they both receive... A NASTY SHOCK!  But not the electrical kind.  I'd have said about that in the warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Unusual 4: The Return of the Anti-Mulder

**It's Not Unusual IV:**  
**The Return of the Anti-Mulder**.

by Ethan Nelson

  


The puzzle spread out on Walter Skinner's desk was almost complete.  
He had taken great care with it, choosing each piece with a specific purpose  
in mind. A fat file folder sat just to his left, waiting to be hastily  
opened atop the puzzle in the event that anyone should happen in. God forbid  
he should be asked to surrender that folder. He wasn't sure what his reaction  
might be, but he knew it couldn't be good.

The completed portion of the puzzle was yet another grainy rendering  
of his and Fox Mulder's frenzied coupling in the handicapped access stall  
of a Washington Denny's men's room. Blown up to roughly the size of the  
AD's desk calendar, the quality of a shot that had not been spectacular  
to begin with had deteriorated to the point that the incident seemed even  
more sleazy than it actually had been. All that remained of the puzzle  
now was the portion that depicted Mulder, who had assured Walter it was  
a "pretty good come shot" as if this was the sort of information that would  
make a difference to the AD.

But he _had_ saved it for last, with not insignificant anticipation.  
In the back of his mind was the idea of saving the piece that was Mulder's  
face, maybe slipping it into his wallet. All it required to squelch that  
notion was the threat of pickpockets.

There were any number of more important things he could have been doing  
just then. He had calls to return, reports to read. _Pencils to push_.  
He had enough nightmarish crap stacked on his desk that he could expect  
to work well into the night, even if he had not been fucking the dog, which  
he was. Yet he continued, adding piece after piece, thoughtful and meticulous.  
He wished his preoccupation could be inexplicable, but it wasn't.

If he allowed his mind to wander even slightly, it invariably came back  
to the vision that had been haunting him for days. Each time he closed  
his eyes, each time he had a spare moment, each time he took a breath,  
even, he saw Mulder and Jackson White, looking for all the world as if  
they were locked in a clinch. From a strictly intellectual standpoint,  
Walter knew that this was not the case. That the reality was that while  
Agent White had been looking for a quick fuck in Mulder's office, Mulder  
himself had been looking for something to gut him with.

Walter was not a man plagued by insecurity. He knew he had his charms,  
and he knew Mulder would not betray him. He knew too that Mulder was not  
at all dissatisfied with their relationship. But the image of the two men  
was persistent, and each time it returned it came with the thought of just  
how attractive White was. How much hair he had. And that while they were  
as opposed as any two people could be, he and Mulder had a lot in common.

Unbidden, Mulder's words echoed in his mind. "Walter, if you were any  
dumber, you'd be Gomer Pyle."

Like a fool, he'd shipped Mulder and White off to Quantico to head up  
a profiler's symposium. A symposium at which Agent White would likely break  
out all the witty anecdotes and cheap cologne at his disposal to spirit  
Mulder away. He'd had to do it. To refuse to send the pair would be to  
invite the wrong questions.

More importantly, it was sure to settle the matter once and for all.  
Either the two men would return (sporting blackened eyes) or Walter would  
receive a Dear John letter hastily scribbled on the back of a postcard  
purchased at Las Vegas' Chapel O' Love. It wasn't the preferred outcome,  
certainly, but any had to be better than none.

_Nobody ever throws themselves at me_, he griped, in much the same  
tone as the famous "Jim _never_ has a second cup of _my_ coffee..."

People flung themselves at Mulder as if they were moths and he was a  
giant, mobile Bug Lite, and with much the same result. He had been oblivious  
to them long before Walter came on the scene. _He flung himself at me_...

He was just slipping the last piece into place when his phone rang.

"Skinner."

"Sir, it's Agent Scully. I need to see you as soon as possible."

He frowned. "You'll have to make an appointment with Kim, Agent Scully--"

"You don't understand, sir."

"Enlighten me."

"I need you to meet with me downstairs."

"Scully, what's going on?"

"_Please_."

Walter looked down at his puzzle. As much as he hated to admit it, Mulder's  
theory that his gifts and those the agent received were somehow connected  
appeared to be a sound one. "Have you received any unusual deliveries lately?"

"With all due respect, sir, I'd prefer not to discuss this over the  
phone."

Oh, God. She had. "Will you be in the building for a while, Scully?"

"Yes, sir."

He flipped through his Day Timer. "I have a meeting in half an hour."

She paused. "Sir, I don't think the matter will take much more than  
five or ten minutes of your time." And you're wasting it arguing with me,  
her tone implied.

"I'm on my way."  
   
   


*** *** ***

  


Scully's manner was all tension when Walter found her. Though she was  
not pacing the office, something in her suggested she would have liked  
to do so. Neither of them had yet recovered from her finding him in Mulder's  
apartment, clad in nothing but his glasses and a barely-there towel. He  
knew Scully wasn't casting him speculative looks when his back was turned,  
but it was still an awkward situation, in which only Mulder saw the humor.

"Agent Scully, I'm very busy today. I hope this is--" his voice died  
in his throat when he saw the television and VCR set up at the far side  
of the office.

The AD experienced a thousand kinds of hell as he imagined what Scully  
was about to show him. What she must have already seen, to have sounded  
so grim over the phone. Son of a bitch.

It wasn't enough that Walter lived in terror of coming to work for fear  
his new desk pad would feature a full-color blow-up of the incident at  
Denny's. It wasn't enough that Mulder had taken his paranoia to new heights  
and was now placing a strip of scotch tape across his door jambs to detect  
a break-in. Now the sick bastard, whoever he was, was gunning for Scully.

"This arrived for Mulder this morning, sir," she said. "He asked me  
to have a look--"

"He did _what_?"

She pressed play.

Walter stared at the screen, an unwilling audience, but he couldn't  
look away. An FBI warning came up. He blinked. That hadn't appeared on  
the video. He watched. Waited. Gaped. "What the hell is _that_?"

Scully raised a brow. "_Sweatin' To The Oldies_, sir."

He swallowed. "Did-- uh... did you watch the whole tape?"

"Unfortunately. Have a look," she said, gesturing to the box that sat  
on Mulder's desk.

The AD lifted the flap and peered inside. _Cher's Body Fitness_,  
_Abs  
Of Steel_, _Jane Fonda's Workout_, and exercise videos from Cindy  
Crawford, Dixie Carter, Kathy Ireland, Fabio, and a host of others sat  
inside the box. _That's a hell of a mixed message_, he thought. Donuts,  
Elvis, and fitness videos?

"We'd been operating under the assumption that this was an inside job,"  
said Scully. "But whoever sent these must not have known Mulder would be  
out of town this week."

"Or he wanted you to think so," Walter said, examining the Fabio tape.

"Agent Scully, what's your assessment of Jackson White?"

She faltered, but recovered quickly. "He's-- he's brilliant, edgy, irreverent.  
He isn't a team player. Not afraid to take risks." She smirked. "Actually,  
he's a lot like Mulder, ignoring the fact that he's as devoted to his skepticism  
as Mulder is to his belief."

"Bizarro Mulder," he murmured.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forget it."

"There's something else, sir."

"What?" he said, all dread.

Scully handed him a sheet of paper filled with addresses. "These firms  
all offer the kind of services that would produce the sorts of gifts you've  
been receiving, sir. We have no way of knowing if they were made locally,  
but I think it's an excellent beginning."

He met her eyes. "Agent Scully--"

"I'd be happy to check some of them myself, sir."

"That's not necessary, really."

"I'd like to help." She was accepting no arguments on the matter, clearly.

Walter looked at the list. He really didn't have the time to check them  
all himself. To wait for Mulder's return was insanity. The two of them  
could be on the side of a bus by then. "Thank-you, Scully. I think I speak  
for Agent Mulder as well as myself when I say this is much appreciated."

She smiled faintly. "I'd like to see the matter done as soon as possible,"  
she said. "As with everything else, what affects you affects him--"

"Which in turn affects you. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's done now. There's no sense in regretting it. I would just--"  
She flushed.

"Agent Scully?"

"I would suggest that you and Mulder be more discreet, in future." She  
looked horrified that she'd said it.

"I'll take it under advisement."  
   
   


*** *** ***

  


One of the advantages of Walter's position at the Bureau was that he  
could afford an apartment that was supplied with endless hot water. Long,  
indulgent showers were his guilty secret. Fifteen minutes with his shower  
head set on stun was almost as good as having Mulder there to massage his  
neck and shoulders. And a good deal quieter. He stood, unmoving, as the  
water pummeled him, and tried to look on the bright side. It was a tactic  
at which he failed miserably on his best days.

He would be hard pressed to imagine any activity more humiliating than  
driving from shop to shop, asking innocent proprietors whether they had  
or had not created a heat-activated mug with a picture of himself fucking  
his subordinate on it. Of course he never expressly stated that it was  
he on the mug, but then, should he be the one to hit on the right location,  
he doubted it would be necessary to explain that to the owner. A fine mind  
is a terrible thing. The longer he thought about it, the worse the situation  
became. It was entirely possible that his admirer was buying each item  
at a new store.

It irked him to feel so helpless. Irked him more that the best he could  
manage as a man of action was to hope for the best and tell himself it  
was an educational experience. He kept waiting for his sensible side to  
sound off, for his subconscious mind to announce that he would not be in  
this mess if not for Mulder. He didn't believe in destiny. He didn't believe  
that events were preordained. But the longer he was involved with Mulder,  
the more he believed that things could not have unfolded any other way.  
There was no sense in flagellating himself for inviting that first kiss,  
so long ago. If it had not happened that night, it would have been another.  
It had been inevitable. Neither right nor wrong, it just... _was_.

If he was honest with himself, he could even admit that he wasn't sorry  
he had fucked Mulder at Denny's that night. Only sorry they hadn't caught  
the camera man.

The shower door slid open quickly, startling him. Mulder stood naked  
on the bath mat, wearing a sardonic smile. Walter let himself drink the  
agent in, heedless of the water that sprayed everywhere. _What, am I  
checking him for bite marks?_ He smiled carefully. Mulder had some strange  
sexual aura about him. His eyes gleamed, his skin glowed. He was hard,  
and ready, barely leashed by his lover's restraint. Waiting.

"The last time I laid eyes on you," the AD said, "You had White in your  
lap and his tongue down your throat."

"_I_ didn't do anything," Mulder said. "It could have been Hale-Bopp.  
Sometimes things like that do strange things to people."

Walter looked him up and down. "What you're telling me, what you're  
saying, Mulder, is that he had no reason to take a shine to you other than  
his strange reaction to a passing comet?"

"Why not?"

"What's my excuse?"

"Desperation. Why don't you let me in? I'm grimy, and _somebody_  
has to use your shampoo."

"Fuck you, Mulder," he said, but he stood back.

The agent stepped inside and carefully slid the door shut before he  
turned to face the AD. His hair stood up in clumps. Water sluiced off his  
body, that beautiful, lean body...

"Mulder," he said.

His lover stepped closer, and closer still, until they were a breath  
apart. "I'm sorry, Walter," he murmured.

"You said it yourself: you didn't do anything."

"You've been thinking about it, though. Stewing."

"So? You're the one who's been shacked up with the man for the last  
week."

Mulder allowed himself a smile. "He squeezes from the wrong end of the  
toothpaste."

"Bastard." Walter slid his arms around Mulder's waist and tugged. Both  
men gasped when their groins collided. He tried for a kiss, but Mulder  
dodged him. He settled for nipping at the agent's neck.

"He made another pass at me on Thursday night."

Walter froze. "And?"

"And you're going to burst a blood vessel when you see the hotel bill.  
The only other room they had was a suite."

"Mulder..."

"Walter..." he teased, smiling now. "Tell me you didn't think I'd run  
away with him." The AD was silent. "Walter?"

He smirked. "And leave all this?"

The agent cupped Walter's face in his hands and kissed him persuasively,  
licking his lips before he plunged his tongue into the AD's mouth. Walter  
sucked his tongue, grinding his hips against his lover's. He wasn't going  
to last, he knew. It disappointed him. Suddenly he felt like he and Mulder  
had been separated for months. He wanted that first new consummation to  
linger.

Mulder slid a finger into Walter's ass. The AD bucked, tearing his mouth  
away. "Cut it out."

"Ah-ah-ah," his lover warned. "You invited me in here, Walter, I get  
to do whatever I want."

"You're some kind of sex vampire?"

"Finally," he grinned. "An X-File I don't mind investigating."

He raised a brow. "Why don't you try _investigating_ the challenging  
world of unmolested cliches?"

"I think that's an oxymoron."

"So is 'I think' coming from your mouth, when you're naked." Mulder  
slipped a finger inside him. "Mulder," he moaned. When his head fell back,  
the agent licked his throat. Walter's hands clenched on his lover's ass.

"Not yet," Mulder said. "Delayed gratification, remember?" He dipped  
his head to capture a nipple with his mouth, never breaking the rhythm  
of his hand against Walter's ass. The AD arched against him. Mulder turned  
him into a man he barely recognized as himself. One moment he was showering  
peacefully, thinking over a problem, and the next, he was Captain Libido,  
and the only problem he had was just when Mulder was going to let him come.

The agent switched his attention to Walter's other nipple now, still  
ignoring the AD's cock but for the maddening sway of his hips. Finally,  
there was no way he could continue as he was. He released Walter's ass  
and pulled away, sinking to his knees. He stroked Walter's cock reverently.  
The AD looked down at him through a haze. Mulder gave his cock rapt attention.

As the agent reached out to cup Walter's balls, the AD flashed on Michael  
Douglas in _Romancing the Stone_, cradling that enormous fake emerald  
and breathing "El Corazon..."

Walter stroked his lover's hair. It was a struggle not to just grip  
his head and put it exactly where he wanted it, but he managed. The agent  
looked up at him, like an acolyte, eyes wide and mouth open just slightly.

He gave Walter's balls a gentle squeeze. "Mulder..."

"Walter?"

He swallowed. "Did Scully show you those exercise videos?"

Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Walter grinned. He'd  
caught his lover off guard, for the first and probably only time. The man  
had been too swept up playing Valentino to maintain any kind of conversation.  
Finally the agent tipped his head backward and met Walter's eyes. "The  
Fabio one is missing," he said. "Do you know anything about that?"

"Try Scully. I prefer the scrawny type."

"I can't believe you. We're naked together for the first time in weeks,  
neither of us has to be anywhere, and I'm on my knees in front of you in  
your shower stall."

"And I had the gall to malign you."

"And you had the gall to malign me."

"Don't tell me you thought today was the day I'd start calling you Honeybunkle  
and offering to wash your feet."

"I should have stayed with Jackson."

He scowled. "_Jackson_ is embarking on a one-way trip to Alaska  
as soon as I can manage it."

"Feeling possessive, are you?"

"Don't fuck with me, Mulder. Not about this."

"Don't be like that." He leaned forward, his hands on Walter's hips.

The AD gasped when his back hit the tile. "You know I'm not going to  
do that to you," Mulder breathed, trailing kisses along the inside of Walter's  
thigh.

"Yes..."

"I like the idea of you hoarding me." His tongue darted out and licked  
the sensitive area where Walter's leg met his torso. "I could get some  
kind of ID bracelet. 'Property of Walter S. Skinner.'" He paused as he  
was about to apply his tongue to Walter's balls. The AD moaned, protesting.  
"What does the S stand for?"

"Stupid," he muttered.

"Sexy," the agent murmured, sucking one of his lover's testicles into  
his mouth.

Walter's head banged against the shower wall. "That's so... oh, Christ..."

Mulder released him. "So..."

"Corny," he gasped.

"Oh, you hear that one a lot?"

"Nobody says it to my face."

The agent captured his neglected testicle, manipulating it with his  
tongue. Walter let out a keening moan. Somehow, this was exactly what he'd  
been needing, for days. Somehow, Mulder had known. His mouth was so hot,  
so wet, so... cunning... He let Walter go again.

"Stunning," he said.

"Simple-minded."

"Sensual."

"That's the same as sexy."

He grinned. "Sex slave..?" He stroked Walter's cock gently, rubbing  
his thumb over the head. The AD buried his hands in Mulder's hair, no longer  
content to let him tease. The agent resisted. "Sultry."

"Mulder."

"You're not trying."

"Neither are you. _Please_..."

Mulder bent over him and stroked his tongue along the head of Walter's  
cock, probing the slit, teasing the ridge. His mouth closed over it without  
warning, and he began to suck rhythmically, massaging the AD's flesh with  
his tongue, scraping with his teeth. Walter's hips moved of their own volition.  
He gave himself up to Mulder totally, denying him nothing. His hands clenched  
and unclenched in his lover's hair as Mulder relaxed his throat and took  
him all the way inside. He began to swallow.

Pleasure shot through Walter's body at odd intervals, warming him, maddening  
him, until he was shaking with it. Mulder manipulated his cock as if he'd  
taken extensive training in the act, drawing back just enough when Walter  
came close, then capturing him again and bringing him back. His hands kneaded  
Walter's thighs. His jaw worked to accommodate his thrusts.

The AD's knees had long since lost any tension they'd had. All that  
supported him now were Mulder's hands and God's will. Walter had no sense  
of identity, no problems, no car payments. He was close now, so close,  
and damned grateful, like some idiot winning one of the technical awards  
at the Oscars who got up on stage and thanked everyone he'd ever met, one  
name at a time. So close, and Mulder pulled away again.

"Mulder... fuck... please..." His lover's eyes burned. Mulder's mouth  
closed over him again. His hands massaged Walter's balls, and his sucked  
his cock furiously, working to finish him off now that he'd made up his  
mind. Walter's head fell forward to watch Mulder's own head bobbing over  
him.

"Yes... _yes_." He was bucking wildly now, completely undone by  
the man who knelt before him. Then he was cresting, his whole being suffused  
with pleasure. He mumbled incoherently, in a voice he barely recognized.  
Collapsed against the shower wall and slid to the floor. Mulder crawled  
to him and wrapped himself around the AD. His lips were swollen, his eyes  
glazed. His cock, still hard, bumped against Walter's stomach.

"I'm sorry," the AD said. "I wasn't thinking."

"That was the idea." He dipped his head and kissed Walter softly. "I  
want to get inside you," he murmured into his lover's mouth.

"I don't think I'll be able to stay upright for very long."

Mulder fumbled blindly and shut off the shower. "Just try to make it  
to the bed," he said, rising. He extended a hand and Walter took it, standing  
shakily.

"Don't look so smug," he said.

"It would help if _you_ didn't look so... sated."

"I'll try to look more disgruntled in the future." He tried to push  
past Mulder to get into the bedroom, but the agent grabbed his arm and  
tugged. Walter's body collided with his own. His arms snaked around the  
AD as he plunged his tongue into his mouth. Mulder moaned.

"What about the bed?"

Mulder grabbed a towel from the rack and rolled it into a fat tube.  
This done, he handed it to Walter, turned him around, and bent him over  
the bathroom counter.

"Mulder, for Christ's sake..."

The agent pressed his body flush against Walter's. His chest hair tickled  
Walter's back. Mulder's cock slid against the AD's ass, hot insistent.  
He thrust his tongue into Walter's ear at the same moment he began to stroke  
Walter's erection back to life. The AD's skin still tingled, hyper-sensitive,  
almost to the point of discomfort, but only almost.

With tremendous effort, the AD raised his head and opened his eyes.  
In the harsh light of the bathroom, the mirror he faced concealed nothing.

This was a unique perspective for him, and far more intimate than had  
been watching his lover on videotape. Mulder gave himself up to the role  
of seducer as if he'd been born to it. He was in a strange humor tonight,  
content for once just to pleasure his lover, all quips set aside in favor  
of a greater focus. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, his mouth softened.  
He looked like a love slave. He looked predatory.

Walter watched Mulder's hands on him and was doubly aroused by the sight.  
Watched his tongue, tasting as much as teasing, finding all Walter's best  
spots with the unerring accuracy that only a man with an eidetic memory  
or a gigolo could possibly have. An image of Mulder in black rubber pants  
and a blue sequined shirt came to mind, and he laughed, without thinking.

"Ticklish?"

"No. I was imagining you as Neil Diamond."

"Fuck _me_," he said, disgusted. "You always have to say something  
like that, don't you? Why can't we just fuck like normal people?" Walter's  
eyes met his in the mirror. Both men came to the same conclusions at the  
same time and laughed. The moment didn't last, though. Mulder's cock rubbed  
against Walter's ass with each new convulsion, an act that captured the  
agent's attention. He collapsed on top of his lover. "Shit." He planted  
a kiss between Walter's shoulder blades. "I never used to be so--"

"Depraved?"

Mulder pinched his ass and pulled away. "Don't stand up," he said, when  
Walter shifted.

He raised a brow. "This isn't some kind of prelude to a d/s scenario,  
is it?"

"No, I'm just lazy," he said absently, rifling through Walter's drawers.  
"I don't want to have to seduce you again."

"If it's that much of a trial for you--"

"Where the hell is the lube?"

Walter blinked. "What?"

"I got toothpaste, moisturizer, shaving gel, Brylcreem-- and I don't  
want to know what you do with _that_\--" He shot the AD a desperate  
glance.

Walter cleared his throat. "Maybe I'm out."

"_Out?_" He opened another drawer. "Saliva," he muttered. "Olive  
oil, sunblock, soap--"

"What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you ever read any gay porn, Walter?"

He stood abruptly. "I'll find the lube." A thorough search of the bedroom  
uncovered a tube under his bed, much to his relief. The look on Mulder's  
face had said it all. If he'd failed, there was a bottle of Thousand Islands  
dressing in the refrigerator with his name on it.

"Astroglide," he said.

"The preferred lubricant of gay federal agents worldwide."

"Official lube of the 1998 Winter Olympics." He gave Mulder the tube  
and resumed his place over the counter.

Mulder stared at him. "Oh, Walter..."

"What?"

Mulder took position behind him and kneaded his shoulders. His hands  
were warm and firm. He began to work his way down Walter's spine. The AD  
arched into his touch, breathing raggedly again. His cock throbbed. Mulder  
stroked it gently. "I can't resist you," he said.

"Then you're a hell of an actor."

The agent slid a slippery finger into his ass, stretching him, testing  
him. Walter bucked violently when Mulder teased his prostate.

"Mulder!"

He withdrew his hand and placed the head of his cock at Walter's asshole.  
He thrust slowly, an inch at a time, until Walter was squirming beneath  
him.

"_Don't move_." Mulder rasped.

Walter met his eyes in the mirror and rocked his hips. With an anguished  
moan, Mulder sank all the way in. He quickly found a rhythm, thrusting  
blindly, his head thrown back. The friction was incredible, exquisite,  
the pleasure that coursed through Walter overwhelming. _What's going  
on with you, Mulder?_ he thought. The agent's movements were almost  
brutal. Walter bucked in counter-rhythm, his voice hoarse as he urged his  
lover on. He was electric. He was ethereal. Mulder stroked his cock quickly,  
crushing his body into the counter.

"Harder," Walter gasped.

"_Harder?_"

"Please."

Mulder's hips slammed against his own. Walter froze, suspended. He came,  
moaning Mulder's name, and in that instant he opened his eyes and watched  
in stunned fascination as his lover came, too.

"Oh, God, Walter, _Walter_..." He sucked in a breath, gripping  
the AD's hips and thrusting one last time. "Oh..." Walter licked his lips,  
savoring the feel of Mulder convulsing inside him. "That's it," Mulder  
gasped. "That's it..." He shuddered on top of Walter.

"Mulder."

"Mm?"

"I need... to lie down."

"I can't move."

"I'm not carrying you."

"With all that upper-body strength?"

"Look--"

He jerked. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

Mulder rose laboriously and stalked out of the room. "My fucking cell,"  
he snarled.

Walter peeled himself off the counter and followed after him.

"What?" Mulder barked. "Yes, I was. What do you want?" He glanced at  
Walter. Grimaced. "I'll be there within the hour." He folded his phone  
and fell back on Walter's bed. "You," he accused. "You had to farm me out  
to the ISU people. You had to write that inter-office memo about shooting  
your fellow agents."

"That was White."

"You think _my_ double entendres are cheesy," he said. "If I have  
to listen to one more joke about stiffs, I'm going to kill myself."

"Consider the irony."

Mulder sat up and rubbed his face. "I've got to have another shower,"  
he said. "You're all over me."

"So?"

"White spends more time in my personal space than I do," he said, stuffing  
himself into his clothes. "If he even imagines I have _tendencies_,  
I'm going to have a permanent handprint on my ass."

"I've got a .38 and a shovel," Walter said. "If he touches you again,  
Alaska will be the least of his concerns."

He grinned. "You're so cute when you play throwback."

Walter found his glasses and shoved them on. "Get out of here and don't  
come back."

"Hah. I won't even make it to my car before you're calling to beg for  
forgiveness."

"Try me."

Mulder gave him a quick kiss. "I wanted to stay the night."

"You can always come back when you're done. If you want."

He paused in the act of tying a shoe. "That's about the most grudging  
invitation I've ever received."

"If you're going to have another man's handprint on your ass--" Mulder  
strode from the room, shaking his head. "Mulder!"

He turned. "What?"

"If he tries anything else, I want to know about it."

"You think it's him, don't you?"

He smirked. If he was going to make a suspect of everyone who even looked  
at his lover twice, he really had his work cut out for him. "I don't know,"  
he said. "Maybe I just want to have a good enough reason to kick his ass."

"'It's time you learned your proper place, boy,'" Mulder said, doing  
an uncanny imitation of Walter's voice. "'You keep your hands off of my  
man.'"

"Fuck you, Mulder."

The agent grinned. Walter's gut clenched in response. Shit.

"Goodnight, Walter."

"Goodnight."  
   
   


*** *** ***

  


"Agent White, I'm glad you could make it on such short notice. Have  
a seat."

"What did you want to speak with me about, sir?"

_I want you to keep your mitts off my Mulder_. "This is my least  
favorite conversation to have with one of my agents," he said. _In fact,  
I'd rather frame you for white-collar crimes and ship you and your pretty  
face off to the max_. "It's come to my attention that you've continued  
to pursue Agent Mulder."

His features tightened. "Has he filed a complaint against me, sir?"

"Not formally, no. In fact, he doesn't know about this meeting, and  
I'd like to keep it that way."

"It's a personal matter, sir."

"I disagree. As long as you're conducting your activities on Bureau  
time, and on Bureau property--" he tossed Mulder's hotel bill on his desk  
"-- and with Bureau money, it's a matter of public concern, to my mind.  
It's only a matter of time before someone notices your behavior, Agent  
White, and Mulder doesn't need any more people snickering about him right  
now."

His gaze sharpened. "Has someone been bothering him, sir?"

"Not at this time."

"I don't want to make trouble for him."

"Then leave him be."

The agent was silent.

"Agent White?" His phone rang. "Skinner."

  
"Sir, it's Agent Scully. I'm sorry to bother you--"

"Let's forego the niceties for now, Scully. What's going on?"

"Agent Mulder didn't show up for work this morning, sir. I stopped by  
his apartment to check on him, and he isn't here... do you have any idea  
where he might be?"

Walter met White's eyes. "No."

"Could you meet me here, sir?"

"I'm on my way." He replaced the receiver, fighting down the panic and  
nausea that threatened to consume him. "Agent White," he said, calmly,  
"It looks as if our mutual friend has disappeared. You were the last person  
to speak with him, were you not?"

White scowled. "I haven't seen him since we got back from Quantico."

Walter stared at him. "You didn't call him last night?"

"No."

He stood and shrugged into his jacket. "I have to go. We'll continue  
this conversation another time."

"Is Mulder all right?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"What--"

"You're dismissed, Agent White."

"Sir, I'd like to help, if I can."

"That won't be necessary."

His jaw tightened. "Agent Mulder is a friend--"

"Look. This isn't a party, and you are not invited."

"Hey, I--"

"I'm your superior, Agent White, a fact that seems to slip your mind  
at the moments that are most convenient for you. If I say you stay here,  
you fucking well stay here. Nod if you understand."

White stood and attempted to stare him down. His stance was eerily familiar.  
"If you want to play that way, fine. As long as you understand that I'm  
going to be on this at quitting time. You keep pushing your pencils and  
taking your orders--"

"I feel a sanctimonious speech coming on, and I don't have the time.  
Come anywhere near this on Bureau time and you're going to be working evidence  
in the smallest jerkwater office I can find for the rest of your life.  
Do it on your own time and you're going to be checking your insurance papers  
to see if your medical covers rhinoplasty. _Do you understand?_"

His eyes narrowed. "I think I do."

Walter stormed out of the office. "I'm gone for the day," he called  
back to Kim on his way out.

"_What?_"

 

  
Mulder, he thought, as he drove to the man's apartment. It didn't help  
Walter's equilibrium at all to think of how strangely his lover had been  
acting the night before. He'd seduced Walter with single-minded intent,  
and yes, it had been fantastic, stellar, even, but it had also been damned  
weird. He had been so intense, almost humorless by comparison, unusually  
quiet. Now he'd vanished, and suddenly it seemed feasible that he'd known  
this would happen and had wanted to give Walter something to remember him  
by. He was almost grateful for the thought, and _there_ was a fucked-up  
notion. It was still better than the idea that Mulder had been using him  
as a substitute for Jackson White.
  
Scully was waiting for him in the hallway when he reached Mulder's building.  
She shoved the door open. "Forced entry," she said.

"He might have lost his keys..."

"Sir, his apartment has been tossed."

He smirked. "How can you tell?"

She glared at him. "Was I wrong to call you, sir?"

"No. I'm sorry." He crossed the threshold. The apartment was a disaster,  
and that was no surprise. The aquarium was overturned; the shelf that held  
it lay on the floor. His computer lay in pieces. Coffee was spilled on  
the rug, and there were papers strewn everywhere. _At least he put up  
a fight_. "Scully, what's your caseload like right now?"

"Negligible, sir."

"I need you to step up your investigation of my gifts," he said, gazing  
around the apartment. "I need you to find out if anyone saw anything, and  
if not, why not. I need you to find out if anyone else at the Bureau did  
not show up this morning, and if not, I need to know where they are. I'll  
get you any clearance you need." He turned and headed for the door.

"Sir, where are you going?"

"I have meetings, Agent Scully." He looked back at her, back at the  
demolished apartment. The image of Mulder flashed in his mind, Mulder shaking  
with pleasure the night before, Mulder mocking him when others wouldn't  
dare even to glance his way. Mulder sitting in his office, covered in blood  
and grime, looking like he hadn't slept in a month, grinning and asking  
him if he'd ever made it with a guy in a cast.

"I have a lot of fucking _meetings_." He slammed the door.


End file.
